Notes to Self

"If only we realized while we are mortals that day by day we are building for eternity."

The other day, I received a text from my cousin Sara—who had dropped by my dad’s house to grab something—of Dad’s “Notes to Self.” The list, written in his unique handwriting on a page of his beloved mother’s business notepad, was taped to the living room windowsill above the desk where he sat every morning to get organized for his workday, pay his bills, and take his insulin shot. The notes read:

1. Be Present

2. Be Guarded

3. Be Loyal to My Others

4. Finish what I Started

5. Stay in the Moment

6. Be Honest

7. Live with Authority

8. Relax and Believe. We Belong to God. Serve Him.

9. Be Kind and Helpful

10. Renew my Energies and my Righteousness Daily—Be Happy!

It’s been a cold and cloudy week, and I’ve been thinking about Dad a lot, especially since receiving this list. He’s been gone a month, and on Veteran’s Day my mother-in-law texted to ask about my heart. I responded honestly that it’s okay—the waves of grief come, and I miss my dad daily, but I know his heart belonged to Jesus, and that has given mine peace.

However, I’m learning I can still feel sad—with an insatiable sense of longing—alongside my peace. These feelings don’t shake the peace, thank God, but rather confirm what Mae, the young girl in Within Heaven’s Gates, says regarding her earthside uncle with whom she longs to reunite: “To long is not to be discontent.”

Right after my dad passed, a dear family friend sent me this book of Rebecca Springer’s vision of Heaven, and it has been a tremendous comfort with its assurance that we will reunite with our loved ones one day in a place of unimaginable purity, beauty, blessings, and joy—never to be parted from them again.

We are eternal beings, made for eternity. What we do every day on Earth counts forever. Regarding this, Springer wrote:

If only we realized while we are mortals that day by day we are building for eternity. How different our lives in many ways would be! Every gentle word, every generous thought, every unselfish deed will become a pillar of eternal beauty in the life to come. We cannot be selfish and unloving in one life and generous and loving in the next. The two lives are too closely blended; one is but a continuation of the other.

My dad understood this—his “Notes to Self” show this to be true: “Be loyal to My Others; Finish what I Started; Be Honest; Serve God; Be Kind and Helpful; Be Happy!” He knew every day mattered for something far bigger than himself. Therefore, he knew that existence wasn’t about him, but about showing up each day as a servant of purpose, truth, loyalty, and joy.

Dad knew it was about building for eternity through a life of sacrificial love—a legacy I’m proud to be left with and one I pray to one day leave.

After my mother-in-law’s text, Caleb, the kids, and I went on a hike to Squirrel Point on the Kennebec River. The big beautiful trees rising along the rugged trail reminded me of Dad—how, when he’d come upon a tree too majestic to pass, he’d stop, place his hand on the trunk, and have my siblings and me do the same. “Can you feel the powerful life?”

Dad understood there was more than met the eye in our day-to-day world. He understood we were surrounded—before and beyond—by incredible, unquestionable life. Life in which we were made to have our hand in forever.

On our way home from the hike, it snowed. It was our first snow of the season here in Southern Maine, and after several days of gloom, the snow floated down like little messengers of hope: “All has been and is being made new.”

So, just “Relax and Believe,” I reminded myself, as Dad had reminded himself daily while he was here.

I longed to give him a hug while watching the purifying snow, and at the same time felt washed with peace, believing that, in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn’t be that long before the day to see him again would come.

I made a mental “Notes to Self” for the meantime: strive to be present, loyal to Christ and my precious Others, ever thankful for my rich blessings, and to finish the good and worthy work with a pure and happy heart I’ve been given on my way to eternity to do.

I thanked God for making me the daughter of one who aimed to be and do these things too—for giving me a dad who saw death as a doorway to our true Home, and life on Earth as our purposeful path there.

Relax and Believe. We Belong to God.

The snow swirled ahead of us on the highway like angelic guides.